


teenage fever

by divinerenjun



Series: you make me feel so high [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting high, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Size Kink, Smoking, Weed, basically: mark gets high with johnny for the first time and they get off together, if u squint, just dudes being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinerenjun/pseuds/divinerenjun
Summary: “Wait, I meant that, like, if I kissed someone when I was high, I wouldn’t be sloppy. Not like you. Not like, if I kissed you,” Mark clarifies.“Nah,” Johnny responds, ever-eloquent. The top of his head brushes the christmas lights strung up across the wall, casting him in deeper saturation, gold and red and blue playing across the curves of his cheekbones and highlighting his lips as they part to speak once more. “I don’t believe you.”
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: you make me feel so high [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054721
Comments: 26
Kudos: 378





	teenage fever

**Author's Note:**

> a little heads up: johnny says that mark is getting wet like a girl at one point. its nothing too intense but please be aware before reading!!

It takes Mark a good two minutes to realize he’s blinking with every single second that passes. It takes him another good minute to stop, giggling despite himself. The aircon is blowing _right_ into his face and yeah, sure, it’s cooling him off, but it’s also making his eyes very dry.

“Johnny,” he asks, voice slow. He giggles again, finally convincing his eyelids to stop twitching. “Johnny does weed make your eyes hurt?”

Johnny props himself up on an elbow where he’s lying on his bed, turning to look at Mark sitting by his feet. Mark’s still squinting directly into the airflow, eyes watering. He turns, grinning as the room spins with his movement, when Johnny responds.

“Nah.”

“Oh,” Mark nods. “Okay. Well, I think I need to move because mine are getting really dry.”

Johnny just reaches out for him, not asking for clarification. Mark lets Johnny pull him to the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut as he lands gently but seems to keep falling, body drifting weightlessly down through the bed, through the floor, to the very center of the earth.

Earth’s core smells a lot like AXE body spray.

This close, when Mark opens his eyes (half-expecting to see molten rock surrounding him, pinning him in place against the soft pillow beneath his head), the red streaking through Johnny’s retinas makes Mark think of fireworks, bright sparks dancing towards the deep brown depths of his pupils.

Johnny’s got a lazy smile on his face, and when his hand doesn’t leave Mark’s waist Mark finds that he doesn’t mind. They lie there, just looking, breathing, for an interminable amount of time. Mark’s not certain it’s more than two seconds—but it could also have been five whole minutes—before he brings a finger up to poke at Johnny’s bottom lip, pressing his mouth closed. Johnny sticks out his tongue to lick at Mark’s fingertip, and Mark pulls away, scrunching up his nose.

“Ew, gross,” he says, wiping his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. He continues. “This feels weird. I feel weird. This feels weird.” 

“Yeah.”

“Dude, you, like, talk weird when you’re high.” Mark laughs, and he feels the whole bed shake with the rumbling of his chest, watching Johnny bounce a little bit from the vibration. He laughs again. “Woah.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

There’s silence again for a minute. Mark can feel Johnny’s gaze on his lips—as heavy as the hand on his waist. Mark turns onto his back, and Johnny’s fingers shift to rest just above his belly button.

Mark somehow convinces himself to speak. “Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Wait—Johnny?” Mark sucks in a breath. 

Another “Yeah?”

“Have... uh… Have you… Have you ever, like, kissed anyone? When you were high?” Mark brings a hand up to stifle his laughter as he pictures it.

“Yeah.”

Mark sits up as quickly as he can, cocking his head to look down at Johnny still resting back against the pillows. The warmth of Johnny’s palm disappears, and Mark’s skin misses it instantly. “Really?”

“Yeah.” A grin. “Jaehyun’s really sloppy after he’s been smoking.”

This time when Mark pictures it, there’s no laughter. Just the image of Johnny and Jaehyun working slow as molasses against one another. He gulps.

“Oh. What does it feel like?”

Johnny laughs, and flips over to lie on his back, staring off at the ceiling. Mark watches his mouth move, puckering as he obviously tries to recreate the feeling, before he laughs again. “I dunno! It just kinda feels like… kissing, I guess.”

Mark nods, focused. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t be sloppy, I promise.”

Johnny laughs one more time. 

It’s winter break, and the sounds from the busy street outside of Johnny’s rental home are muffled by a thick layer of snow settled all on the grassy lawn and the frostbitten remains of Kun’s gardens. Johnny’s roommate is out tonight, some party at the office where he’s interning. 

They’d smoked on the back porch despite no one else being in the house, not wanting to fill the rooms up with the heady, nocturnal scent of their blunts for Kun to return to later and complain about in the morning. Mark had shivered under his blanket in the chilly evening air, watching the tip of Johnny’s nose light up red like Rudolph, until the blunt was between his fingers, between his lips, and he was inhaling for the first time.

Johnny laughed when he coughed. Mark found the stinging in his throat to be unpleasant, but not unbearable.

“It’s worth it,” Johnny had reassured him, encouraging Mark to take another hit. They’d passed the joint back and forth until only the roach remained, glistening orange around the edges until Johnny crushed it under his shoe. 

“That’s enough for now,” Johnny gathered his own blanket around him as he stood, holding a hand out to help Mark up. “Give it half an hour. If you still don’t feel anything we can light another one.”

Now, Mark looks at Johnny in all his intoxicated glory, and realizes the implications of what he’s just said.

“Wait, I meant that, like, if I kissed someone when I was high, I wouldn’t be sloppy. Not like you. Not like, if I kissed you,” he clarifies. Heat rises to his cheeks, and suddenly he wishes he were still sitting in the cold flow of the air conditioner.

“Nah,” Johnny responds, ever-eloquent. He scoots up, leaning back against the headboard. The top of his head brushes the christmas lights strung up across the wall, casting him in deeper saturation, gold and red and blue playing across the curves of his cheekbones and highlighting his lips as they part to speak once more. “I don’t believe you.”

It feels like a challenge. 

Mark blinks, then blinks again, and nearly slips back into the cycle of just repeating that one simple action over and over again before he catches himself: “Wait what?”

“I think you’d be crazy sloppy,” Johnny says, head thumping against plaster as he lets it fall back. “It’s your first time getting high, Mark. There’s no way you wouldn’t be messy.”

Sloppy. Messy. Thinking about the implications makes Mark shiver. His brain kicks into overdrive, trying to make sense of what Johnny’s saying without making a fool of himself. He knows he’s squinting, suspicion etched into the furrow of his brow as he takes in Johnny’s sly grin. 

Another wave hits him, THC biting deeper into his synapses and tossing him into a fresh round of giggles. He doesn’t cover them up, and Johnny soon joins him, chuckling deep and slow.

Mark shifts, and crawls the short distance closer so the outsides of their thighs are pressed tight together. This puts his grin just inches from Johnny’s own. The bed creaks with his movement. 

“I don’t know what that means Johnny.” 

Johnny’s hand finds its way back to Mark’s waist. “Yeah. I don’t either.”

Mark kisses him. It’s brief, a simple connection, and then he starts laughing again.

“Johnny,” he starts, “I can’t make my lips move.”

Johnny laughs, and sits up higher, forcing Mark to move with him if he wants to retain their proximity. He ends up straddling Johnny’s lap. Not too shabby a place to be, he thinks as he shifts around to get comfortable.

“Don’t worry about it.” Johnny grips his hips. “I can do all the work, I don’t mind. It’s your first time. Just relax.”

Mark blushes, smiles, and dives back in. He genuinely cannot make his mouth work. His brain is sluggishly trying to remember how to reciprocate the gentle rhythm of Johnny’s lips against his own, the soft tongue pressing up against the front of his teeth, but his muscles won't cooperate.

After a minute or so of mindless giggling while Johnny stays determined, Mark starts getting the hang of it. His lips move tentatively, parting to let Johnny’s tongue in further, switching the slot of their mouths together so he can take Johnny’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

It’s _not_ messy, thank you very much. 

Mark manages to lift his arm and put a hand around the nape of Johnny’s neck, holding him close. 

Their tongues press together, a slick, hot slide, and Mark feels himself melting. He lets out a low moan, and Johnny pulls away, resting their foreheads together as he pants. Mark whines and instantly tries to kiss him again, but Johnny just laughs and keeps his mouth out of range.

He smacks his lips, and Mark opts to target his neck instead, moving to press his lips right up under Johnny’s jaw. 

“Ahh—Mark, you taste like kimchi.”

Mark laughs, and bites a mark right below Johnny’s ear. After thirty minutes, they’d gone to the kitchen for snacks. When Mark had collapsed against the counter in a fit of laughter, mouth stuffed full, they’d figured their mission to be a success. 

Johnny’s fingers lace into Mark’s hair, and when he uses this grip to pull Mark back to eye level, the sparks of pain against Mark’s scalp make him gasp. His intoxication dulls the pain, smoothing it out over every part of his body so it resounds into more of an ache than a sharp sting, rippling out through every nerve and sending heat straight below his belt. 

They sit there for a moment, just taking each other in. Johnny’s lips are spit-slick, neck flushed. His eyelids sit heavy, halfway closed, but his eyes are bright. Mark gets distracted for a moment by a mark on the wall that looks somewhat like a dog, before Johnny’s hands slide down the long length of his sides, long fingers pressing into the spaces between his ribs and making Mark feel so _small,_ so compressed.

He shifts on Johnny’s lap, and licks his lips, inching closer to let Johnny kiss him breathless.

 _It’s nice_ , he thinks in a dazed part of his brain. It’s very nice. Johnny is warm beneath him, his hands searing through Mark’s shirt. His thighs are corded, strong muscle tense beneath Mark’s weight. 

“Are you,” Mark breaks away, panting. “Are you hot?”

Johnny grins. “I dunno. You tell me.”

Mark laughs for a solid minute, then focuses back in, expression turning serious in an instant. “I mean, you’re in sweatpants. Are you hot?”

Johnny shrugs. “Nah,” and that’s the end of it. Mark eagerly slots their lips together again. Johnny’s hands slide up under the hem of Mark’s shirt, fingers dancing soft across his hip bones and up the smooth expanse of his stomach, and Mark gasps, tilting his head so his temple is pressed to Johnny’s forehead. 

“Your hands are so fucking big.” At this, Johnny spreads them out as wide as he can, pressing his thumbs together and reaching his fingers as far as they can go around Mark’s thin waist. 

Mark groans, feels his dick leak against the front of his slacks, and sits up straight, sucking in a breath to try and make himself smaller. He wants to drown in Johnny’s touch, in the sheer, overwhelming bulk of him. He wonders if his cock matches the rest of him for size, and leans back in to kiss the bulge of Johnny’s Adam’s apple, nipping and sucking a line up his neck and jaw to press them cheek-to-cheek, lips brushing the curve of Johnny’s ear. 

Mark’s tongue darts out to swipe experimentally over the little hoop earrings lining the shell of Johnny’s ear, the rook piercing nestled right in the meat of it. Metallic. He smacks his lips, and Johnny jerks away, the sound loud as a shotgun so close to his ear. His hands creep higher on Mark’s torso, a thumb gently brushing up against Mark’s nipple.

Mark sighs and shifts his hips closer. He can feel the hard line of Johnny’s cock pressed against his through the layers of fabric between them, and turns his head to muffle a groan into Johnny’s jaw.

He ruts against Johnny like a high schooler, the tight strain of his pants making the friction that much more delicious. Johnny flicks at his nipples, nudges Mark’s head with his own to get him to go back to kissing. Mark feels weightless, and his thumb dips past the waistband of Johnny’s sweats. 

Johnny chokes out a pleasant sound that Mark swallows eagerly, licking across the seam of his lips to capture every little trace of noise against his tongue. He rubs Johnny through his briefs, gripping tight, measuring his girth with his fingers. Johnny’s _thick_ and _long_ and Mark whines against his lips when his grip makes Johnny pulse, thickening even further in Mark’s hand.

“Mark,” it’s just a simple word, his name in a breath, but Mark leaks another round into his boxers, feels his balls tighten. 

It’s a different experience to get hard when high. In terms of the kissing, Johnny was pretty much right—it’s just kissing, with an added layer of that special floaty feeling a really good makeout can give you—but every shockwave of blood to Mark’s cock sends him to an entire new plane of existence. He can feel every single centimeter of his dick as it flushes out, twitching when he presses it harder against Johnny’s own, and registers the motion of his own fingers as he slips them into Johnny’s underwear more through his cock than his hand itself.

Johnny gasps and breaks their kiss to let his head fall back against the wall. It exposes the strong column of his throat, and Mark plants a hickey right in the middle of his collarbones, then chases his lips again as he wraps a hand directly around Johnny’s cock and starts jerking. 

Mark kisses him through the sensitivity, having enough sense to gather some of Johnny’s precum on his fingers to ease the slide. He can taste the sourness of their kimchi snack on Johnny’s tongue, and his nose scrunches up.

Suddenly, Johnny pulls away, just an inch.

“Oh no, Mark,” he starts, fingers bruising into Mark’s hips. He sucks the trail of spit connecting their bottom lips into his mouth.

“What?” Mark asks, tightening his grip around the base of Johnny’s cock.

Johnny groans and leans forward, resting his head on Mark’s shoulder and murmuring into the crook of his neck: “You’re gonna float away. Don’t float away.”

Mark starts moving his hand, giggling at Johnny’s disconnected thought process. “I won’t,” he promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Johnny sighs, and starts nipping at the delicate skin of Mark’s throat. He’s hot between Mark’s fingers when Mark resumes stroking. 

Fingers fumble with Mark’s zipper. He jolts, nearly dislodging Johnny from his neck, at the first brush of a thumb across his cockhead. Johnny grunts, and tilts his head so he can look down between them.

“You’re so wet.” It’s muffled into Mark’s shoulder, but the words make Mark twitch and breathe out heavily through his nose. “Fuck, Mark, you’re leaking like a _girl._ ” 

Mark literally whines. 

Johnny’s hands start to pull Mark’s hips up, up, away from him—it’s the opposite direction Mark wants to go and he voices his complaints loudly until Johnny starts tugging off his pants, pulling them back flush together when Mark is left in only his underwear. This, Johnny slides down to the top of Mark’s thighs, waistband sitting snug up under Mark’s balls. Mark shoves his hand back down Johnny’s pants and grips him tighter.

Johnny presses his thumb right against Mark’s slit and Mark’s legs jerk, cock spurting out. Johnny catches it all with the flush swell of his finger, pulling his hand out and staring, entranced, as precum slides down his thumb to pool in the deep crevice between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Fuck.” 

Mark shifts around, cock slapping up against his belly, and leans in to kiss Johnny again, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand back down to establish a steady rhythm.

It’s like a bomb goes off in Mark’s stomach. Johnny fits him between his fore- and middle fingers, sliding them tight up the entire length of him. Mark’s smaller than Johnny. He can cover roughly two-thirds of Johnny’s cock with his whole hand. If Johnny were to stretch his fingers out and take Mark into his palm, he would likely cover Mark’s entire length.

Mark whines again and presses his hips closer. It all feels slow, like time is slipping away into nothing, like it’s turning into sweet, sweet honey all around them. Mark thinks that if he were to poke his tongue out and taste the air, it would be sticky.

When Johnny grips right under Mark’s crown, electricity zaps up his spine, frying him to a crisp. He moans, then laughs.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?” 

“Johnny can you get us both at the same time?”

Johnny pulls back, quirking an eyebrow. Mark takes in his flushed cheeks, traces the path of bright bruises blooming down his jaw and throat and whines, giving Johnny’s dick one last tight squeeze before bringing his hands up to push at the bottom of Johnny’s shirt. 

“Off.”

Johnny complies eagerly, reaching back behind himself to pull the top off over his head. Mark sits back and watches, mouth agape, cock twitching.

“What?” Johnny questions, as if he didn’t just break Mark Lee with a single action, as if he isn’t sitting there with the body of a Greek God.

“That was—” Mark swallows. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His fingers come up to delicately trace the center line of Johnny’s chest, the divet between his pecs, and slide down to splay across the cookie-cutter lines of his abs. 

Mark admires for a minute, feeling Johnny’s body rise and fall with every stuttered breath. Everything around them is a blur—quite literally. _It’s like tunnel vision_ , Mark thinks, _like the adrenaline after winning a game._ Sometimes that happens to him when he gets over-excited: world fading to black around the edges of his vision, focus hazy around the center of his attention. Those moments always feel like a dream, running on auto-pilot, trying not to let everyone around him know that his brain has clocked out.

He shakes his head, literally, to stop his thoughts. All he wants right now is to _feel._

“Like, can you just, get us both.”

Johnny’s finger comes up to pull at his own bottom lip. He presses it down against his chin, and Mark gulps when it pops back up against his teeth and Johnny opts to press his thumb between his lips, sucking on the tip lightly. It’s the same thumb he had pressed against Mark’s slit, and Mark knows that if they kissed right now he would taste himself on Johnny’s tongue.

His hips jerk.

“Johnny,” he whines, digging his nails gently into Johnny’s abs. 

Johnny pops his thumb back out with a smack. “What.” 

Mark sighs, and grabs his hand, guiding it to where he’s shifted to press their cocks flush together. Johnny catches on, and wraps his palm around the two of them, squeezing so they’re tight in his grip. Mark moans, and leans in to rest his forehead against Johnny’s shoulder, watching between them as Johnny begins jerking. 

“Fuck—.” Mark can feel Johnny tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling, feels his thighs twitch under his own. 

His thumb catches under Mark’s head on each upward stroke. Mark thinks he’s taking it slowly—he can’t really tell. 

Johnny’s free hand scratches lines up Mark’s back and he shivers, all his muscles clenching at once. He feels his hips bucking up in time with Johnny’s hand but he can’t make himself stop. He just keeps moving, keeps pushing his tip up under the lip of Johnny’s head, and realizes he’s drooling a puddle into the dip of Johnny’s collarbone. He sucks the line of his spit back into his mouth and groans, twisting to bite at Johnny’s shoulder and feeling Johnny’s cock tense against his own.

“Johnny… Johnny I’m close.” It’s all breath, just a faint stream of noise that Mark’s not sure Johnny even hears. His hand doesn’t slow, pressure insistent and building in Mark’s stomach.

He feels like a volcano, hot lava bubbling up in his gut and spurting out to make the slide of their cocks together as wet as anything. He starts whining into the crook of Johnny’s shoulder, feeling rather than hearing Johnny’s breath start wheezing.

Johnny’s fingers dip to grip at both of their balls, squeezing them together and rolling them between his hands. Mark winces at the stimulation and gasps, hips stuttering before he comes up against Johnny’s cock. Johnny moves back to grip him through it, rolling his own hips to continue the slide of his girth along Mark’s length, tight together in his palm. 

Mark sees stars. He doesn’t usually get fuzzy vision when he comes, but the gray smudging around the corner of his eyes seeps in towards the center until all he can see are little sparks dancing between his lashes. He feels his cock twitch, feels Johnny’s chest shake as he works Mark through his high.

When his vision clears, he groans, rendered incapable of taking his eyes off his own cum dripping down the thick length of Johnny’s dick. “Fuck,” he groans, surging forward to brush his lips along the strong line of Johnny’s jaw. “Fuck,” he repeats when Johnny starts moving his hand, still pressing his hard-on tight to Mark’s spent cock. “Fuck, Johnny, fuck—.” 

“Yeah?” Johnny picks up the pace.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” It’s a groan this time—Mark has to strain to pick out the word. He feels weightless again, and realizes that Johnny’s previous fear of him floating away might actually have been valid. Johnny’s fingers dig into Mark’s waist, and he gives a final last squeeze right under his own head before he’s coming.

It spurts up onto the planes of his abs, dribbles out between his fingers, drips down Mark’s own balls. 

“Yeah—fuck. Mark—.” 

“God, Johnny.” A drop lands on Mark’s black tee. He leans back and moves to rub it out, squinting when he only manages to smudge it wider, press it into the very fibers of the shirt, and gives up.

Johnny’s still holding their cocks. Mark takes the time now to admire the breadth of his palm stretched across their softening lengths. It feels weird to be touched as his adrenaline seeps out into the sheets, leaving him feeling spent and grounded and very, very much more sober than he has been in the last hour or so.

“Johnny?” he asks, as Johnny’s fingers slide up Mark’s length and across his own abs, collecting their mingled cum and wiping it off on the thigh of his sweatpants, down past where Mark’s ass is still resting on his legs. Mark crinkles his nose.

“Yeah?” Johnny still sounds fucked, voice husky, eyes bloodshot, lips red and wet. Mark gulps, trying desperately not to imagine that pretty mouth stretched around his cock.

“Um, I think I need to smoke again. Or not—I just don’t feel as buzzed anymore.”

Johnny laughs, and pulls Mark’s boxers back up to cover him. “Yeah, that can happen when you come.”

Mark’s hand stills where he’s begun tracing patterns against Johnny’s rib cage. “So you’ve, like, done this before?”

“Yeah,” Johnny nods, and flips them over in a smooth motion. The effects have clearly worn off internally for him as well if he has that much coordination. He hovers over Mark, warm leg between Mark’s thighs as he opens and rummages through his bedside drawer, returning with a pre-rolled joint and lighter between his fingers and a grin on his face. 

He lights it right there in his bedroom, a spark falling down towards Mark’s chest and dying in midair, and grins as Mark sits up on his elbows so Johnny can place the non-burning end between his lips. “Just wait ‘till you get _fucked_ when you’re high. That shit _really_ hits different.”

**Author's Note:**

> [sighs] its been so long since ive gotten high. someone come smoke w me please <3
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated!!!! [twt](https://twitter.com/divinerenjun) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/divinerenjun)


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